House's Emergency
by hughville
Summary: House calls Wilson to help him with an emergency.


**A/N: This is the result of another one of remydoodle's Text From Lat Night prompts at Live Journal.**

**Disclaimer: I SO do not own _House._**

Wilson knocks on House's front door. Sighing, he checks his watch and raises his hand to the dark green panel, preparing to knock again. He pulls his fist back when the door opens and House stands leaning against the edge. House jerks his head, indicating that Wilson should enter. As the door closes behind him, Wilson checks his watch again. House limps past him and slouches down on the couch.

Placing his hands on his hips, Wilson resists the urge to scream. "Your text said 911," he grounds out between clenched teeth. "What is the emergency?"

House tilts his head back and looks at Wilson. "I'm bored."

Wilson rubs his hand across his forehead. "Being bored is not an emergency."

House looks at him with wide blue eyes. "It is for me. I have needs."

"Oh, Jesus," Wilson groans. "I told you that it was just that one time. It can't happen again."

House lifts his head and stares at the fireplace. His right shoulder lifts in a shrug. "Wasn't listening."

Wilson walks around the end table and the couch, stopping in front of House. "I have a date."

"I have a boner," House tells him, indicating the bulge in his jeans. "And since Cuddy and Cameron aren't here anymore…."

"Are all your hookers busy?" Wilson asks folding his arms.

"You have….skills hookers lack," House tells him.

Wilson pinches the bridge of his nose. "This is absolutely the last time. Do you understand me, House? The. Last. Time."

House rubs his leg. "Lube is in my bedroom. My leg hurts."

With a shake of his head, Wilson rushes to House's bedroom and roots around in the mess until he finds the bottle of lubricant. He stomps back out to the living room and tosses the bottle to House. With quick efficiency, he unbuckles his belt and slides his zipper down. Toeing off his shoes, he slips out of his khaki pants and striped boxers.

"How do you feel about fucking me quick and me leaving to do arts and crafts with my date?" Wilson asks, sarcasm tingeing his words.

"No foreplay?" House pouts. "You always were a selfish bitch."

Wilson rolls his eyes. "Yeah," he mutters, "I'm really selfish."

Tapping his foot impatiently, he watches House unzip his jeans and push them along with his boxers down to his ankles. Wilson huffs out a breath and grabs the lubricant. He smears it over House's erection and then turns around. He feels House's long fingers stroking the lubricant over his ass. In spite of himself, he feels desire coil in the pit of his stomach. Then House's hands grip his hips and pull him down. Wilson groans as his muscles stretch to accommodate House's cock. He moves slowly at first, trying to find a comfortable rhythm that won't put too much pressure on House's right leg. A gasp escapes him as House's hands close over his cock. Leaning back and to the left, Wilson begins to move faster. The feel of House sliding in and out, his warm breath on Wilson's neck causes the coil of desire in his stomach to tighten and send out fiery tendrils. A moment later, he feels the hot flood and pulsing, along with the low guttural moan that signals House's orgasm. Wilson closes his hands over House's and together they stroke Wilson's cock until cum spurts out landing on the coffee table and floor. He moans as pleasure sings along his nerves. Slowly, panting and sweaty, he levers himself off House and grabs up his clothes. He shuffles down the hall to the bathroom and cleans himself up before getting dressed. Wetting a washcloth, he heads back to the living room. House is sprawled on the couch, eyes closed and a satisfied grin revealing his dimples. Wilson cleans up House and the rest of the mess. Glancing at his watch again, he rushes into the kitchen and rinses out the cloth before arranging it over the edge of the sink. He passes House on his way to the front door.

"No more 'emergencies'," he tells House as he opens the door. He pauses and looks back at House. "Did you hear me?"

House waves a hand and Wilson slams the door behind him. As he races to his car, he knows this won't be the last time and he smiles.


End file.
